Why the hell were you here?
After a moment of stunned silence, Russell stared wide-eyed at the apologetic-looking man, filled with confusion and shock.
Meanwhile, in the café, the office drone awkwardly looked away, wearing a weary smile that seemed pitiful, innocent, and on the verge of dying from overwork at any moment.
Russell wanted to curse, but there was nothing he could do.
Among the Destruction Factors, Grey Robes was considered the least lethal, yet capable of causing the greatest devastation. What made him frightening was the omen of fate he represented.
A man who had never wished to harm anyone had somehow become the warning bell heralding death and destruction. Like duckweed on the water, he was carried onward by the current of misfortune, never able to decide where he went.
It was foreseeable that, throughout the endless remainder of his life, he would continue running himself ragged in pursuit of this final job that belonged to him.
Until either the work or he himself disappeared first.
The instant Russell confirmed that he was not hallucinating, he withdrew his gaze. He did not waste precious time trying to catch up with this old acquaintance.
Instead, he simply raised his head.
And looked toward the gloomy sky.
An ancient fragment appeared in his hand. The shattered Living Event Record condensed once more, and he recited, "The first angel sounded his trumpet, and fire and blood were cast upon the earth, burning one-third of all life and the land..."
The moment those hoarse words left his mouth, they seemed to come alive, echoing in everyone's ears. The clamor of the entire square—no, of all London—suddenly froze. Pain stabbed through everyone's ears, and then they saw the sky turn blood-red.
A nonexistent disaster appeared out of thin air like an illusion,